


Major General Olivier Armstrong, Biking

by astralelegies



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, It just kind of happened, Olivier doesn't care about your traffic laws, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralelegies/pseuds/astralelegies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Survival of the fittest, flamethrowers, and cycling combine when Olivier Armstrong decides to try out a new invention during her trip to Central.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Major General Olivier Armstrong, Biking

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this fic when I was, you guessed it, out riding my bike, and I let it molder for a month before actually writing it. It was originally supposed to be a silly little piece about Olivier terrifying pedestrians but then the flamethrower got involved and I don't know what happened. Also, I'm perfectly aware what we now call the bicycle was actually in development from the early half of the nineteenth century and this takes place a good while after that, but I'm using some artistic license given other technological discrepancies in the FMA 'verse.

In her most recent visit to Central, Olivier Armstrong had become privy to many examples of the latest modern trend sweeping the streets of Amestris: bicycles. The General typically didn't bother with such mundane frivolities, but something about these new contraptions grabbed her eye. She'd caught sight of a couple of the strange devices before, but cycling was impractical at best in the North and she'd had no idea they would become so popular. She simply couldn't see the use for them. But after the fifth one in under an hour whizzed by her hotel window, going rather tremendously quickly at that, Olivier decided she'd had enough. The Ice Queen would not be outdone by mere amateurs. 

She marched out of her room to the nearest bicycle shop she could find. 

"I want the fastest thing you have available." 

The tattooed woman in charge blinked up at her. "What?"

"Your fastest bike. I want it." 

Now the woman was nervously inspecting her military uniform, paying particular note to the stars on the shoulders. Olivier rolled her eyes. Was this all it took to make people intimidated these days? If this were Briggs she'd have the woman tossed out in the snow for a week with a knife and a box of matches to harden her up. Survival of the fittest indeed. 

"Alright," the storekeeper said, "What style are you looking for? Roadster, velocipede, enhanced?"

"What do you mean by 'enhanced'?" 

The woman scratched the back of her head, looking at the ground in embarrassment. "Oh, you know. I'm in school for engineering so I do a bit of tinkering here and there. Give this one a built-in gun holster, that one a small-scale flamethrower on the tail. That type of thing."

"I'll take the one with the flamethrower." Olivier had been told the young Mustang upstart was currently in Central as well. This would show him. 

"It's not for the faint of heart," the other woman warned, "have you ever ridden one of these before?"

"I'm a quick learner." The look in Olivier's eyes was not to be trifled with. 

Warily, the storekeeper led her to the back of the shop, where she hefted a devilish-looking machine off a rack. The bike was sleek and streamlined, painted black with red accents on the tips of tiny, ghostly white flames. _As if they're made of ice_ , Olivier thought. The design was bold, but somehow it managed to give off just the right impression of subtlety.

"This will do," she told the woman. 

The tattooed storekeeper showed her where the gearshift was for changing speeds and how to activate the flamethrower. "You're sure?"

"Are you questioning my judgment?"

"N--No, of course not." 

Olivier paid for the bicycle and took it out onto the pavement. She stood studying it a moment, trying to assess the best way of going about riding it. The whole operation seemed fairly self-explanatory; it was balancing that could pose some dfficulty. Still, Olivier had used methods of transportation that were plenty more peculiar, and she wasn't about to let a hunk of twisted metal defeat her. She took her position on the seat and gripped the handlebars. 

At first, getting used to peddling in order to stay upright was tricky, but before long she had the hang of it and was racing down the city's sidewalks with abandon. She flicked a button to test the flamethrower and discovered that not only did it work tremendously at setting things on fire, it also caused her to accelerate. She pressed harder. 

Originally she'd had no particular destination in mind, but now that she'd got going she knew exactly where she was headed. She would pull up at Central Command and make all the imbeciles in charge wet themselves. In a world where prejudice frequently limited positions of power to men only, many women chose to rise through the ranks by allowing themselves to be underestimated. It was not so with Olivier Mira Armstrong. She relied on her strength of will alone, and her ability to terrify others with it. 

She was beginning to see the appeal of these apparatuses. As she rushed along, the wind making her long hair fly out behind her, she felt a surge of triumph. _This must be what it is like at the top of all things._

A group of other cyclists came up behind her. 

"On your left!" one of them shouted, attempting to pass her. 

Olivier sped up.

"Just try and catch me, fools!" she shouted back. She activated the flamethrower again and darted away, ignoring the yelps and smells of singed rubber that were already becoming distant. Central Command was now only a few blocks ahead. 

As she came closer, she noticed several uniformed figures waiting outside the main entrance, including, regrettably, Colonel Mustang. He looked annoyingly smug, standing there next to Lieutenant Hawkeye with his arms crossed, and what was worse, he was looking directly at her. 

_This is not the reaction I should be getting_ , Olivier thought crossly. She screeched to a halt directly in front of him. 

"Mustang. To what do I owe the displeasure?" 

"Certain members of Central High Command are rather unhappy with you," he said, smirking at her, "they heard rumors you've been wreaking havoc on our fair city."

"No more than they themselves do with their ignorant judgments," Olivier asserted calmly. 

"They also seem to have caught word you've set half the town on fire."

Olivier snorted. "They give me far too much credit. A few bikes, maybe, and possibly some shrubbery."

"I thought I was the only one who could set things ablaze like that," he commented. 

"You thought wrong."

"Well, it pains me to tell you this, General Armstrong, but the military is prepared to take disciplinary action for this. Unless, of course, I were to tell them the rumors were unfounded, that I had allied with you and used my alchemy to apprehend a few criminals." 

Olivier's eyes narrowed. "So it's a favor you want."

"You could put in a good word for me."

"Ha!" Her nostrils flared. "Why would I do anything of the kind, when it would be dishonest? I think you're an idiot like all the rest." 

"Do I sense a demotion in the air?"

Roy Mustang truly was infuriatingly cocky. Olivier decided she'd had enough of his drivel. 

"Central High Command won't do anything of the sort," she told him. 

"No?"

"No. All I did was ride a bicycle to work. There are no restrictions on cycling in the city, and there are none on the construction and manufacture of these machines. As far as the military is concerned I've broken no laws, and that's all that matters."

"She has a point, Colonel," Hawkeye said, and Olivier thought she could see a glimmer of amusement in the Lieutenant's expression. 

"Betrayed by my own subordinate," Mustang sulked, "what is the world coming to?"

"If you're quite finished, I'll be going in to attend to my duties." It was Olivier's turn to smirk at him. She marched through the doors, not looking back to see his reaction. 

Perhaps she would refrain from insulting him the next time she spoke to one of her superiors. In order to maintain their rivalry, after all, he had to remain a worthy adversary. 

She didn't use her bike at all during the rest of her stay in Central, but when the time came for her to head back to the North, she packed it carefully in a storage crate and took it with her. Her men, by this point, had learned not to question their boss on trivial matters, and didn't make an exception when she arrived back at Briggs towing a large box, though she did catch a few uncertain glances. She stowed the bicycle in an equipment room along with a sign saying she'd kill anyone who opened its container. There it would rest, just waiting for the day she'd take it out again and cause a little more trouble.


End file.
